


Bit

by yeaka



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Hyrule Warriors
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, Ficlet, Hand Jobs, Light Bondage, M/M, Muzzles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-25 02:26:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9798365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Link behaves well, despite Ghirahim’s heavy hand.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Legend of Zelda or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

He returns from his mission tired and irate—it’s true that very few on their side could actually convince the darknuts to switch over, but he still doesn’t appreciate being sent out in the middle of the night to work alone, when he’d much rather be in his personal quarters, or rather, those of his _master_.

But Link isn’t truly that. When Ghirahim creaks open the door to their private chambers and slips inside, he finds Link just where Ghirahim left him—on the floor by the bed, where he belongs. He sits on neatly folded legs, his wrists bound before him, the thick collar around his neck trailing a long chain to the nearest post. His muzzle covers the whole lower half of his face, silencing any pleas. Of course, in the entire time Ghirahim’s known him, Link’s never once asked for anything, much less _help_. But the inability is enticing nonetheless, and Ghirahim feels a familiar tingling up his spine at the sight alone. Link is _such_ a pretty thing.

And he looks best bound and gagged, made to kneel like a witless beast, waiting for his master’s touch. Ghirahim strolls forward with a fond chuckle he can’t quite keep down. Link fills him with mirth. Link lifts his blond head, blue eyes heavy with sleep, but they return to alertness as Ghirahim holds them fast. Ghirahim reaches his prize and bends to wrap his fingers around the metal chain, giving it a fierce jerk into the air. Link grunts into his muzzle and stumbles up, arms still slack and hands still useless. Even fully dressed beneath that—in his lowly training garb, not the fanciful hero’s clothes—he’s a sultry thing. Ghirahim climbs backwards onto the bed, dragging Link towards him. 

Link comes on all fours—or three, with his wrists tied—to where Ghirahim pulls him. He’s made to face the other way, out towards the door, and pulled back into Ghirahim’s lap, thighs spread wide and hands pressed up against his chest, so Ghirahim has room to play. As Ghirahim fiddles with Link’s belt, he coos in one pierced, pointed ear, “ _What a good pet you are_.”

Link makes a stifled little noise that might be a moan, might be a growl, and Ghirahim chuckles for it. “And how dirty,” he hisses, his hands now sliding beneath the white-grey tunic, “for one of the princess’ great warriors to so enjoy giving up control... especially to someone that used to be your enemy... and could crush you at any moment.” Ghirahim’s laughter bubbles louder than he means it to, harsher, but most impressively, Link doesn’t so much as flinch. He only squirms in Ghirahim’s arms, lifting his hips to try and press his crotch into Ghirahim’s warm palms. Because Link’s been so _good_ , Ghirahim obliges.

He cups the hard bulge in Link’s tights, gives it a little squeeze, and drinks in the greedy moan that chokes around the muzzle. It’s almost a shame to stifle such noises, but then, as Ghirahim purrs, “I _love_ the look of you like this, collared and muzzled like an animal... you’re my little beast, chosen one... don’t forget that...” Link arches back, head leaning on Ghirahim’s shoulder, thighs taut around Ghirahim’s legs. Even wordless as Link is, as he _always_ is, he’s such a wanton, seductive temptress. Ghirahim kneads his cock through his tights and nips affectionately at the side of his face, sighing, “...My raunchy little wolf...”

Link pants and groans, twisting and squirming, but never truly trying to break free, never throwing Ghirahim aside. For his obedience, Ghirahim rewards him: Ghirahim reaches into his tights with both hands and wraps around his cock, moving to pull the plump shaft free and stroke it in the open air—Link arches again and whimpers, starting to sweat, skin burning fire-hot, and Ghirahim delights in that reaction, one that battle never seems to pull from him. _This_ is the only thing that can break Zelda’s greatest warrior. Under Ghirahim’s skilled hands, Link breaks so easily. Ghirahim pumps Link’s proud cock with a sort of simmering adoration, deriving just as much pleasure as he gives.

The sight of Link is its own reward. The smell of him. The strength of his _submission_. Few would wear such chains for their sword. But Link plays the part that Ghirahim desires, and he plays it well. Ghirahim’s lust mounts with every stroke. His own cock strains against the ripe curves of Link’s ass, but he’s not even sure he wants that today—he mounted Link before he left, spent himself in Link’s tight channel, and left it there to dry. He’ll likely do so again in the morning, before he’s forced to loosen all the chains and let his lover free, off to another war.

Tonight, he merely returns the favour, pumping Link faster and faster, until there’s a constant litany of quenched noise and endless writhing, and Ghirahim finally curls his tongue around Link’s ear, forcing out the end: Link splatters Ghirahim’s hand with sudden force, and Ghirahim knows he wants to _scream_.

As wordless as he is, Link can be quite loud in bed. As much as Ghirahim likes others to hear how lucky he is, it’s nice, sometimes, to keep all of Link’s beauty to himself. This orgasm is just for _him_. He jerks Link’s cock through it, until Link’s shuddering and raw, flagging in his grasp. Link seems to melt, slumping back against him. Ghirahim holds his lover tight.

Then Link gently maneuvers around, nuzzles into Ghirahim’s shoulder, and snuggles up to rest. He’s drifted back to rest before Ghirahim can untie him.

Ghirahim unties him anyway. Ghirahim removes the chains, unclips the collar, unclasps the muzzle, and arranges Link back against the pillows, then tucks him in. He’ll fight better in the morning for his release, and he’ll trust Ghirahim like no other.

Ghirahim snaps his fingers to put out the lights, then wraps around Link to fiercely protect his dreams.


End file.
